I don’t know when, after tonight, we will see each other again. Unless you visit me in the States, it could be quite some time. You know that monogamy isn’t for me. It never was. I told you this before we met. But life so often surprises. I can’t make any promises for what will happen if we do meet up, whether we will fuck. Today, however, I can state with absolute conviction that *I* *am* *yours*. I belong to you. This may never happen again. It behooves us to make circumstance our bitch.

I want your company — in bed and out of it. More than this, I crave your dominance. I desire to be a girl possessed. I require your strength. You can punish me for topping from below — please do! — but I insist upon it. I need you to be rough with me. I want to be totally fucked by you. Use my mouth. Use my cunt. Use my ass. Use them just as you please. I am three holes for your pleasure. I am a slut for one cock only. It’s yours, Amadeo. You own the penis, so you own the woman. I am a plaything, a fuck-toy, the clay that you mold. I am your willing and submissive zero pound whore. I am to be taken hard and challenged. Be harsh with me. Do this. I want you to.

Leave your mark on my body. Beat my buttocks and my breasts. Pull my hair. Place bruises on my skin, bite marks, welts, hickeys. Sign your name on me with indelible ink after each of my orgasms. I want the evidence of the night to linger for days. I want to remember you as I sit uncomfortably in the airplane. I want other lovers to see what you have done.

Slap my pussy. Be brutal to my clitoris. Hold me down by the windpipe and tighten your grip on my throat while you claim my mouth with your tongue and my vagina with your penis. Fuck me with your feet. I will lick the soles and suck your toes afterwards. I will lap the hollows of your arms. Place your fist inside my cunt, twist it within me slowly, unball your fingers under my womb, stretch them out. Make your hand big inside. I am, after all, your fuck puppet. Have me rim your asshole. I will kiss your anus, layering the opening with spit to begin, lowering my tongue beyond the sphincter, slurping at your bung in the exact manner that you devour my pussy. If it is your wish, I will do this for hours. I want to please you so very much.

My vagina throbs when I think about compressing its muscles about your shaft. I am wet inside my panties. I touch myself and ramp the arousal to stratospheric heights.

Piss on me. Come over me. I will wear your bodily fluids proudly. I will drink them down and thank you for the privilege.

I want your presence. I want to have your weight over my body. I want to be blanketed by your warmth. I feel small beside you and protected. I want to bestow on you what pleasure I can. This is my main purpose tonight, my sole concern. More so than the orgasms that render me speechless, more so than a ticket to subspace, more so than the memories that will linger for years, this shall be my joy.

I am an obedient girl. I will do what you say.

I know you will make me laugh. I expect you will make me cry. I will come so many times, with permission and without. We will say farewell, but we won’t say goodbye. And who knows what may follow?

See you in one hour, lover.

Your dutiful slut,

Leah

~

The last date

What I wrote happened, more or less. It was a third consecutive night of sex. But such weekends are the reason I spend an hour at the gym every day.

We met up in the early afternoon for lunch, and then Amadeo gave me a tour of his office, which I had been asking to see. Unfortunately, even though it was a Sunday, there were people around. We kissed and touched a little, but our clothes stayed on. I enjoyed learning about his current projects. As I had errands to run, I left Amadeo, did the things I needed to do, dropped stuff off at the apartment in which I was staying, sent the e-mail I quoted above, and proceeded out again after I had eaten a quick dinner.

I traveled to Amadeo’s apartment wearing sensible shoes, thigh high black nylon stockings, a winter coat, and nothing else. It was a curious feeling to be on the tube almost naked. On the escalator out of the bowels of the underground, the man behind me may have noticed what I wasn’t wearing. He followed me up the stairs at the end, being sure to remain several steps behind me. The chill outside made my nipples peak. The cold air swirled between my legs. The shivers were worth it. Amadeo approved when the coat came off.

The new ingredient was the caning. He has a rattan cane among the toys he keeps in the bedroom closet, but we haven’t played with this much in the past. Amadeo had me bend over and clutch my ankles. He stood behind me. Through my legs, I saw his erection wave at me. He tested the cane. It wooshed through the air. His hands stroked the insides of my thighs and spread the moisture from my pussy over an expanse of skin. When he felt that anticipation had assumed a sufficient pitch, he hit me. He struck the backs of my thighs. The cane landed heavily on the fleshy part of the buttocks. It thudded on my back. The pain at the point of impact was sharp and stinging. It made me yelp. Often, he repeated several times over the same spot. The skin burned after the fact. The nerve endings seared. Following a particularly fierce impact, I involuntarily straightened. The cane cut sharply across the side of my thigh. The pressure on the small of my back compelled me down. His steely voice negated dissent.

I cried. The sobs racked my body. My breathing became heavy. I thought it hurt too much to continue. But I bit my lower lip and summoned the will to keep going. He asked me to ask him to hit me harder, and I did this in sentences that broke through a cloud of tears. In the end, he went to his knees. His tongue followed the lines of welts that marred my skin.

He turned me around and looked up at me from his knees. His tongue licked along the slit. Amadeo positioned me over the bed. I was on my back. The nerves beneath me throbbed. He forced my legs open and raised my arms above my head. He didn’t tie me down, but instructed me nevertheless not to move. I knew what would follow. My hands gripped the sheets. I spread the legs wider for him. The cane slashed over my tits. He struck a dozen times, then worked the tops of my thighs. I screamed. He stuffed his boxer shorts in my mouth to muffle the sounds. Muscles in his upper arms and torso rippled. Though he tempered his strength on my breasts, no such quarter was given to my legs. It hurt immeasurably. But I wanted it. I could absorb this punishment. I wanted to be his good girl. Amadeo spoke in a soft voice that encouraged me even as the cane wounded. I concentrated on the regular, deep rhythms of his breathing. I closed my eyes and drew within my mind and entered a warm and submissive place. In the end, he dropped the wood and buried his face in my cunt and licked me gently. He sucked on the clit until I came. In the aftermath of the orgasm, which I kissed from his cheeks and chin, he fingered my bruised nipples. We chatted as he massaged my back and rubbed salve over my buttocks and thighs.

Amadeo and I started our friendship with an e-mail. He answered an ad on Craigslist. The fantasy he had proposed was too extreme for me, especially on a first date. The intelligence and humor in his message intrigued me, however. I replied, and we got to talking. His appeal grew. Amadeo’s demeanor and attitude engendered confidence when we met. Early on, I had the sense that he could become a regular dom. I am so happy that he did.

Amadeo asked me again about his initial fantasy. I am still not ready for it. So we negotiated a compromise. As he made the preparations, I spent forty-five minutes curled over the rug on the floor. He had me chained to the radiator, which heated me nicely. (He prefers a cooler temperature than I like.) At the lowest setting, a vibrator buzzed agreeably in my cunt. I wasn’t allowed to touch my pussy. I wasn’t allowed to come. I flipped through the pictures in an art book while I waited. It distracted my attention from the still singing nerve endings. Amadeo walked over, called me bitch, and ruffled my hair affectionately. The tip of a finger stroked between my cleavage and trailed on a downward trajectory to my clitoris, which he pointedly did not touch. He sucked my nipples and dangled ropes of saliva into my open mouth. He took a dram of Laphroaig and let it spill from his lips into mine and then did the same with fizzy sparkling water. I stretched. My pussy and pubis were pleasantly sore. I was more aware of the stiffness in my thighs and back.

When he had finished cleaning, he showed me water in the depression of his hand, and then he tipped the hand to his lips and swallowed it. After that, he led me by the chain, which looped my throat and was secured by a luggage lock. I padded after him into the bathroom. He unfastened the lock. The chain tinkled to ground.

The side of my face squashed up against the bottom of the toilet cover. He directed the stream of piss against my face. I closed my eyes and felt the warmth of it pass over my eyelid and along the nose and cheek. The color was a pale yellow. When he had finished, I blotted the urine on the glans with my tongue and sucked the penis to hardness. He slipped a condom over the erection. I turned. My hands gripped the porcelain rim of the toilet, and I braced myself. The cock entered my pussy from behind.

I trusted Amadeo.

With my head in the bowl, which was full of urine and toilet water, he fucked me. My face touched the surface of the liquid. My hair became wet. His hand pushed hard against the back of my head to keep me in place. He flushed the toilet. The sudden suction of the water below took me by surprise. The jets of water splashed my face as the toilet filled up. His cock pounded my cunt at a furious pace. My face was in and out of the water repeatedly. I took rapid breaths through my mouth. He didn’t hold my head underwater for long periods of time; I could, in fact, take in air easily.

Under the circumstances, Amadeo didn’t last long within my cunt. He gave a massive groan and came in my pussy. It took fewer than five minutes from start to finish.

I removed the condom and inverted it and slurped the semen inside. I licked and sucked his shaft. Then, I dunked my head back into the toilet, closed my eyes, and washed my face with another flush.

My mouth filled with water, and I sputtered it back out. I dipped my hand in and collected more water, which I wiped over his chest and groin and thighs. Amadeo laughed. He kissed me. His tongue licked my cheeks. He bit the tip of my nose. The water sprayed from me as I shook my head like a dog. I lapped the drops that had splashed the rim. He moaned when he saw this. The erection resurrected itself. He reached for me.

~

Philosophical remarks

Sex is dirty. Sex is vulgar. Sex is rough.

As I had requested, the last meeting with Amadeo was exceptionally intense. It deviated in an unexpected direction. I was a willing participant throughout. I enjoyed myself. Though the bruises remained for a week, I have no regrets.

Water bondage is a fantasy that Amadeo has nursed for years. The symbolism mattered to him greatly. With my head bent over the toilet waiting for him to place his cock inside me, I thought how terrible could this possibly be when he had spent most of an hour cleaning until the white porcelain was fit to eat from and demonstrated this to me by drinking the water first? It absolutely would not hurt the way the caning had. After it was done, I was happy that I had been able to offer him something new.

I tend not to rationalize sex and submission along the axes of humiliation and degradation. Amadeo and I can play as hard as we do because I know that he respects me. The discussions we have, despite a sixteen year gap in age and experience, are the social interactions of equals. We happen to have complementary sexual tastes. We enjoy kink and the D/s dynamic in the bedroom. Crucially, all of this is only play. I am not a second class human being for surrendering control over the patterns of sex. He does not make me feel inferior to him. How could he when he licks the water from the toilet off my face?

When Amadeo and I started seeing each other, I had a boyfriend in Boston. My great worry during our time together was the possibility that he was getting too attached. To preempt this and to maintain a modicum of distance, I chose to restrict our encounters to one day a week. I also made sure he knew there were others in my sexual life. Still, our relationship flourished, and the friendship deepened. To me, he is one of the touchstones of the city, like the National Gallery or the Southbank Centre. I can’t think of London without remembering the nights we shared. I miss him. For sexual fulfillment, for safe journeys to subspace and back, for sex as provocation and challenge and adventure, for kink as a lifeline, I am in his debt.

~

The next meeting

I have asked Amadeo to visit me in Boston. He said he would try to come in May. He also promised to be a better correspondent. I hope we pick up again where we left off.

In the meanwhile, I have David. We have met up twice since I have been back. He introduced me to electrostimulation. The sensations are novel. Over the weekend, he and I fucked until we could no longer remain awake, slept for a few hours, woke up renewed, and proceeded to fuck some more. My friend Ab, an irregular regular who teaches biology at a middle school, plans to take me to a swingers’ club on St. Valentine’s night. There’s always something. I keep discovering new dimensions to sex.

Frank and I hooked up on Saturday. We wandered the Wallace Collection in the late afternoon and then shared an early dinner at a Greek restaurant, after which we happily retreated to a hotel room, where we messed around until two thirty in the morning, at which point we fell asleep out of sheer exhaustion from too much fucking.

I had spent the previous night with the cellist. The sex had been phenomenal for a one night stand, but Frank knew my body in a way that a new man could not. As we couldn’t guess when or if we would meet up again, he and I applied ourselves to sex. The night generated a monumental catalog of sexual positions.

Surprisingly, Frank awoke earlier than I did on Sunday. My first memory of morning was a pair of hands lightly scratching my shoulders. My vision unblurred. Sleepy eyes focused to see my lover’s face looming over me. The heavy lids drooped shut. I moaned contentedly and turned onto my side. His mouth fastened over mine. The lips applied soft pressure. The tip of his tongue coaxed mine out to play. My hand reached up and grabbed the back of his head. His fingers trailed over my breasts and belly.

I rolled onto my back and spread my legs open for him. He fingered my cunt. The tips of fingers feathered over the labia. The pussy lips petaled apart under the gentle pressure. The kisses were interrupted by smiles and laughter.

Frank untangled the blanket from my feet. Pillows at my shoulders, I propped myself to a sitting position. He tongued my pussy. My left hand clutched at the hair on the back of his head. Then my right hand did the same. They alternated. Hand turned up, he slipped the index and middle fingers into the cunt. He thrust them in and hooked them out and tapped at the walls inside. The tongue circled my clit. His nose rubbed my bare pubis. He worked the pussy steadily and patiently. Neither of us were in any hurry. I wanted these moments to last. The bedsheets were wadded in my hands when the orgasm finally claimed me.

To reciprocate the oral attention, I sucked his cock. As it was morning, the erection was thick. I maintained a loose grip over the bottom of the shaft. My little finger curled around the front of the scrotum. Lips made a tight seal about the glans, and I sucked wetly and slowly. He caressed my buttocks as I fellated the penis. His fingers grazed over the crease of the ass and manipulated my pussy from behind.

Frank cupped the side of my face in his hands, pulled me off his penis, and brought me up for a long and deep kiss. He had a condom at the ready. His fingers stumbled over the wrapper, so he bit it open with his teeth.

He knelt on the mattress. My right calf draped over his left thigh. The inside of my other leg was flush with his hip. The cock slipped into me easily. He swallowed a breast in his hand while the shaft dragged slowly in. My feet elevated from the bed. Hands on his back above the ass, I cajoled his body onto me. I wanted to kiss. He supported his weight on his forearms while he fucked me. When the cock slipped out, both of our hands went at once to the shaft to return it to my pussy, where it needed to be.

My ankles crossed over the small of his back. Hands clutched at his muscular arms. I compelled his mass on top of me so that the breasts squashed flat. The penis stabbed into me with short, powerful jabs. I came undone.

After orgasm, we switched positions. I went to hands and knees with my ass tilted in the air. Frank stood next to the bed and entered my cunt from behind. He palmed one hemisphere of the ass while he fucked me. My right hand pushed off the bed, and I twisted my head laterally to catch Frank’s eyes. I wanted it to feel tremendous for him. I made it a point to remember my kegel exercises. My vagina tightened around the shaft. The pace of the fuck was exceedingly slow. I did a grind with my hips and spun my pussy as Frank’s penis reached into me. The extension of my rump kissed his groin. Soft feminine grunts echoed the louder baritone sounds that escaped his throat.

Frank sighed, and his endurance gave way. The cock pulsed within my cunt. I clamped my muscles over the shaft at once. My fingers strummed at my clitoris. As I wasn’t expecting him to come so suddenly, I couldn’t time a coincident orgasm. This did not matter. I let my elbows buckle so that the front part of my body sunk against the mattress, raised my ass to him, and reversed to take the penis deeper within me. When the convulsions had finished, I remained motionless on the bed. I wanted to keep Frank ensconced for as long as possible.

I went out on Friday night with friends from my old band. Sara introduced me to a cellist, who had joined the orchestra since I had left. She figured we would hit it off and vouched for his performance. She wasn’t wrong.

On my knees, on his bed, I sucked his cock. His balls were a bit too sensitive for me to mouth and handle, so I concentrated my efforts on the stem and the glans. He enjoyed a wet blowjob. He was also particularly turned on by the visual: he held my hair out of the way so that he could watch me work his penis with my lips and tongue. I gave him plenty of eye contact.

When it was time to reciprocate, he ate my cunt from behind. I thrust my ass up into the air, and he lowered his head into the space between my thighs and licked the perineum and the lips of the pussy. He surprised me by pulling out a dildo from the drawer in the nightstand. As he lapped my cunt, he penetrated me with the false cock. It had a suction cup bottom that we attached to a dinner plate that we set over the mattress. I lowered myself onto the ersatz erection and bounced myself over it. He nursed at my breasts and fingered my clitoris.

We fucked twice last night, and each time, I came with his cock inside me. The first time, I was on top, straddling his hard-on, just as I had the dildo. The pliancy of flesh makes a penis the best sex toy ever. His hands smoothed over my back, and he held me by the hips. After the initial orgasm, I let the control of the tempo shift from me to him. His cock made a sequence of long, smooth strokes, then suddenly he would stab it all the way in and hold position when it bottomed out. The deep penetration made me moan. I compressed my muscles about the shaft. He specialized in sticky, sloppy kisses.

The second time, I had my legs in the air, knees touching, the insides of thighs flush. He stood on the floor, straddling the corner of the mattress. His cock thrust into me in long, even strokes in 4/4 time. His thighs slapped against my skin. My breasts rippled under the force of the entry. The seismic jolt, when his cock shuddered to a halt and the momentum carried the balls forward against the sensitive patch of skin below the pussy, rendered the nerves insensate. They overloaded with pleasure. I shrieked. One of my arms wrapped my legs above the knees to make the fit even tighter.

I moved to the center of the bed, and he joined me on the mattress. His hands on my knees winged my thighs apart. He rested on his shins and lowered his erection into my cunt. His pelvis did a twist, and while dug down deep inside me, the cock spun at the cunt, which flowered tightly about the root. He remained on his knees, and I arched myself. My hands, on either side of my shoulders, together with my feet pushed my weight up from the bed. The blood rushed to my upside down head. His grip supported my buttocks. The powerful arms held me upright while I flailed and came.

He sweated so much; his skin was saturated in perspiration. The cock pounded my pussy in short strokes, and I diddled my clit at the top. His paw covered one of my breasts. His breath shortened, and his movements became erratic. Words had abandoned him. He said something, but his speech was unintelligible. After orgasm, we kissed softly.

I went to the kitchen for a glass of water, and he was fast asleep by the time I returned. I liked him enough that I pulled up the corner of the duvet and slipped into the bed beside him. He was a snorer and hogged most of the sheets. We had a quickie in the morning to finish.

Because neither Frank nor I have a place of our own in London, we booked a hotel room near Trafalgar Square. We were together from dinner on Friday through lunch on Sunday. We wandered the National Gallery on Saturday, went to the theater in the evening, and shared five meals. We also exhausted a box of condoms at the hotel. As there is too much sex to tell, I will relate one highlight of Friday, Saturday, and Sunday among many.

Friday

I had worn a dress that was too light for the season and left me shivering outdoors despite a thick winter coat that fell to my knees. As I sat straddling his lap in bed, Frank’s hands slid the skirt up my body until my rump showed below the hem. While I held his head by the ears and spelunked my tongue into his open mouth, his fingers secreted themselves under the red lace panties and fondled my buttocks. The hands massaged the cheeks and feathered along the cleft. Fingertips drummed a persistent beat over the muscle at the anus.

First we undressed each other, normally a simple process obstructed by progressions of kisses. It was his mouth I wanted to breathe through, his tongue I wanted to taste, his air I wanted to drink. When his cock was out in the open, the object of my lust shifted a couple of feet downward. Several swift passes lubricated the erection, and then I had him in my throat. Frank kept interrupting my blowjob to pull me up to kiss. He threw me over the mattress. We had a small tickling war that he won by virtue of superior strength. With his weight on top, Frank pinned my wrists to the bed and squeezed my legs with his. Rolling off me, he dragged me back by the legs and heaved one of my ankles over each of his shoulders and plunged his face between my thighs. I held on to the short hairs at the back of his head as he licked and fingered me. My first orgasm of the night arrived this way, through the intercession of that tongue and those incredible lips and that middle finger, which pushed against the clit through the wall of the vagina.

Frank confirmed my suspicions when he asked if he could fuck my ass. I was delighted by the prospect. When the cock slid into my pussy to lubricate itself, I moaned and contracted the muscles of my cunt about the shaft. The penetration behind happened slowly. I lowered on forearms and knees, head sideways on the pillow, and raised my buttocks to him. Initially, the glans elbowed through the sphincter, and after that, he lowered his shaft into me little by little. He rocked his pelvis backward so that only the head remained within, the ring of muscle tight about it like an elastic band, and he pushed forward to claim an extra half inch when next he thrust with his hips. Once the length of the penis stroked into me, I raised myself, grabbed on to the headboard of the bed, and gyrated my ass back at his cock. He held me by the waist and then by the breasts as he stabbed into me.

In the end, we tried a new position. My head was on the floor, and I used my hands to prop my back and buttocks vertical. He stood, knees bent, straddling me, and his fingers slanted the penis downward. High above me, I saw the rise of his back, the tufts of fur between his shoulders, the valley of his spine, and the bedraggled hair at the top of his head. Light gleamed from the sheen of sweat and gave him an otherworldly gloss. He penetrated my anus as he squatted and lifted. His thighs bounced off my buttocks when the cock sunk in, and his balls slapped against my perineum and pussy half a moment later. I reached my hand up to stroke his thigh when he spurted.

Saturday

Before we went out to see the play, Frank and I took a bubble bath together. The tip of his cock peered above the surface like the periscope on a submarine. My tongue lifted against one of the lobes of the head and curled to fit the curve of his glans. I sucked only the knob, where I knew the nerves were most densely concentrated. My lips nipped lightly at the apron of foreskin at the bottom. Underwater, the heels of my fingers batted at the base of the shaft and at the round projection of his scrotum. I felt the flow of liquid between my fingers and under my palm.

Frank brought his legs out of the water and extended them on either side of me so that they stretched to the other end of the bathtub. His torso lifted perpendicularly and his back reclined against the far wall. One of his hands pressed down against the back of my head to ensure that my mouth would retain its hold on his penis. I clasped the middle of the shaft and sucked hard against the head, pouting my lips to add pressure and friction. My tongue licked lightly along the ridge of foreskin. As he vocalized his pleasure, the water dashed the walls of the tub and made loud splashing noises. He asked that I don’t make him come. I acceded to this request, but I drew out the blowjob as long as possible by humming, buzzing, sucking, swishing saliva over the crown, flicking the tonguetip at the aperture, raking my top row of teeth gently over the helmet, and, in general, varying the stimulation as ever I could. Up close, I liked how the water beaded over the shaft and hung in enormous droplets in his thick pubic hair.

Later, I washed my pussy and rinsed the soap from the labial folds with the showerhead, which I held in my hand and pointed at my pubis. Frank replaced my fingers with his and rubbed from side to side over the swollen, but still yearning flesh. Before long, his tongue lined up and down the slit. He told me that I tasted clean. His nose flattened against the pubic bone as the tongue insinuated itself through the doorway. The fingers pinched the hood of the clit and eased the cowl off to show the distended nerves. I directed the water stream at the juncture of my legs. Eyes closed, he sucked deeper, and he sucked harder, and he sucked so much slower. His hands cupped my buttocks and pulled me to him as the length of his tongue crammed into my vagina. His upper lip brushed against the clitoris, and the air from his flared nostrils wheezed over it. I leaned my weight against the side wall and thrust my pelvis onto his face. The water from the shower pulsed against my bare pubis, dashed around his proboscis, and rolled down in waves over the entrance of my pussy where his jaws now worked. Unlike him, I had no compunction about coming: I could do it forever.

When he fucked me, I sunk into the water with my head propped against the shallow end of the bathtub. One of my legs hooked over the edge and the other lifted in an angle against the wall. His thighs inhabited the space between mine, and his knees settled against the bottom of the tub. The tops of his feet balanced on the taps and faucet at the far end. With my weight displacing the water and also his, the waterline rose until it hovered a mere two inches below the lip. The soap suds left a sea of foam that clung to our bodies.

His cock lodged all the way into my cunt, and he fucked me with shallow strokes. My arms held his waist and steadied his movements, the fingers clenching over the hips whenever he thrust. I groaned my approbation and kissed him. The notes of my ecstasy bounced off the walls and echoed back in counterpoint to the next expressive sounds that escaped my lips.

I challenged him to fuck me harder. The cock vacated my cunt almost totally and sliced through the water in the tub and sluiced back in to the warmth and the wetness of my pussy. The water splashed over the rim leaving puddles on the floor. I folded my arms under my head and pushed off the bottom surface of the tub. My cunt tilted up at him. My breasts floated in the opaque water like volcanic islands. Frank pushed his weight off the sides of the bathtub and fucked me faster. The fluid between us moderated the strength of his movements, but its spray up my pubis to my belly felt exquisite.

I tightened my muscles around the cock as he penetrated me. My eyes squinched shut, and my cheekbones lifted, and I breathed hard through my nose, and my body tensed up, and my arms wrapped his back, and I gripped his shoulders, and I thrust my pelvis up, hard and out, and my chest heaved, and my toes curled against the drain, and my buttocks launched into the air, and it fell again in a great splashdown just as I came.

Frank grunted through my orgasm, and then his resolve gave out. His cock convulsed inside me, which made the walls of my vagina bow inward and buckle. My orgasm intensified one more notch, and I bit his shoulder and beat my forearm against his back. When we sank into the water again, the tub was only half full. Despite the towels on the floor, water seeped between my toes as I stood in front of the mirror and completed my preparations for a thrilling evening out.

Sunday

In the morning, after we had finished breakfast in the restaurant downstairs, we returned to our room to pack. We stole kisses as we could. While his hands rubbed my cunt through my black trousers, I unzipped Frank’s jeans and wormed my hand into the fly. Descending to my knees, I sucked him before the window. The curtains were drawn apart, and the light sloped in through the glass. Another, taller hotel across the street gazed down at us. I hoped that we would be observed by a guest in one of their rooms, but I doubt that anyone saw, and perhaps the glass was anyway too reflective from the outside for us to be noticed. Regardless of whether we had an audience, I added a bit of theater to the fellatio. My hands made circles under his shirt while my head bobbed over the shaft, and when my tongue caught his semen, I spit it back over the shaft and vacuumed it up again. Droplets of semen shimmered brightly in his dark pubic hair like thick raindrops.

These were memorable days. I hope to see Frank one more time before flying home.

Amadeo cooked. It was a five course meal: antipasto, primo, secondo, contorno, dolce, with a bottle of Chianti Riserva. We caught up over the meal. I had missed talking to him. I asked whether he has a new girl. He laughed and said no, but he is back on Craigslist looking to see if he can get lucky a second time. I offered to write him a reference. He hasn’t been entirely celibate since I left London, but then neither have I. With me, David focuses on bondage and, to a lesser extent, pain. I have missed the other faces of dominance.

After the meal, we went to the bedroom. Amadeo sat on the edge of the mattress and rolled up his sleeves. I stripped out of my top and my jeans in as sexy a manner as I could. I sat on his lap and used my ass to coax his penis to hardness. Amadeo shifted the hair to the side to expose my neck. His tongue licked the nape and descended to the shoulders. His hands cupped my breasts through the white bra. He undid the clasp and slipped his palms under the cups. His teeth nipped the side of my throat. The back of the thong covered hardly anything at all. The string bisected my ass. He pulled me backward by the elastic ringing my hips and kissed me possessively. The tongue in my mouth was confident and knowledgeable.

When he stripped, he wanted to whip me with his belt, but I asked him for a barehand spanking instead. I wanted the touch of skin against skin. I had missed sixteen Wednesdays with him. Moreover, I had missed his birthday, which was at the end of September. He made up for the lost time. I was over his lap for an hour. I squirmed. I shrieked out in hurt. I cried. His hand made the skin burn. The blows were sudden. He put the strength of his upper body into them. The solidity of cock under me aroused my pussy even as the powerful slaps to the buttocks caused pain. To moderate the stimulation a little, he rubbed his fingers over the lips of my dripping cunt. A wet hand seems to hurt me more than a dry one: there may have been an ulterior motive. I called him a motherfucker after one particularly hard strike. The next ones were harder. He kept hitting the same places repeatedly, to augment the intensity of the experience. Every so often, he raised my ass and stooped to lick and kiss over the spaces where his hand had landed. On occasion, these kisses morphed into bites. The skin was already tender. I felt the points of the canines and incisors. The endorphin rush was immense whenever Amadeo would recommence after a pause. He stopped only because his hand hurt too much to continue. I kissed his palm and the tips of his fingers. I sucked the digits one by one, slowly, as though each were his cock. I thanked him. I liked that his vigor had marked my skin.

In the morning, in the shower, with bruises still evident, Amadeo would fuck my ass. His foot would press my face against the tub while hot water beat upon my back from above and spiraled down the drain under my head. For the moment, he sent me to my knees.

My buttocks, which continued to blaze — in some places with a diffuse ache, in others with a throbbing hurt — hovered above my heels. Before I started sucking him, he filled the cup of my hands with his expectorate to lubricate their touch on his cock. I supplemented this by smearing the wetness leaking from my cunt onto his balls. Foreplay was brief. I hadn’t tasted his cock in so long. I was greedy for it. The flat tongue trailed along the sides of the shaft. I licked the underside from the pedestal to the crown. The pinch of fingers eased the foreskin down, and I softly kissed the glans. The salt of his precome instilled in me a condition of absolute longing. I wrapped my lips about the bulbous knob and lowered. My face rotated as it sunk. It wasn’t long until I had the penis installed deep in my throat. Pushing off from his thighs, I swallowed him repeatedly from the tip to the root. My spit waterfalled down his balls. Amadeo’s hands tweaked my nipples. He reached down between my legs for my cunt, which was sopping.

Amadeo found a use for the belt. He folded it in half and extended the leather against the back of my head and pulled with his arms to keep his erection ensconced in my throat. I fellated the cock until he came, and I showed the semen in my mouth before I swallowed.

If it had been nearly four months since I had tasted him, it was also almost four months since he had tasted me. Amadeo feasted between my legs, but he told me I wasn’t allowed to orgasm until his cock occupied my cunt. I gripped the sheets and held on. His tongue squeezed between the labial folds. He tugged them with his lips. He scratched the evening shadow on his cheeks over my sensitive, waxed pubis. I loved how his fingers pressed against the G-spot to bring the clit into prominence. He lapped at the distended nerves. The hood peeled off. His lips sucked hard over the nub. It was the points of his teeth that did it. When he bit, I shrieked. My ass bucked up from the mattress. The pleasure of cunnilingus had made me forget about how sore my buttocks were, but the friction reminded me as my ass slid laterally over the bed. My body tensed. I groaned and came despite my will.

Amadeo found a second use for his belt. He brought it over my pussy ten times in succession to punish me for coming too quickly and without his consent. Each time, once I had finished flailing, I caught my breath, thanked him, and in my best Oliver Twist voice asked for more. This made him chuckle.

Afterwards, Amadeo was beyond hard. He rolled a condom onto his shaft and entered me from above. A much missed cock attached to a much missed man plugged my pussy. I wrapped my arms about his back, and I hugged him to me. The sense of completion, the sense of fullness, the sense of belonging overwhelmed me. I wept. More so than the spanking or the blowjob or the cunt licking or the pussy whipping, this brought me to a submissive place. Through the veil of my tears, I beseeched him to fuck me. I spread a little more and enfolded my legs about his thighs.

Amadeo admonished me in his strict voice to ask him for permission to come this time.

He knew what he was doing with his cock. He had come once already, so on the second pass he could hold out on his orgasm. When I asked him for permission, he denied me. The first time he slowed a little to help ease me away from the edge. The second time, he showed no such mercy. “Not till I say yes,” he said, and he fucked me harder and faster. His hand covered my throat and squeezed.

Under his weight, I groaned and wailed. I balled my hands into fists and beat them against his back. I gritted my teeth and absorbed the force of his thrusts. The tears did not stop. After one minute or two, I asked him again and was rebuffed a third time. His tongue entered my mouth. My back arched up. My nails dug into his shoulders. I restrained myself from climaxing.

“You can come,” he said soon after, though I didn’t make a fourth request. Another couple strokes of the piston inside me was all it took. I squirted with his cock inside. The ferocity of the orgasm, a convulsing of the vaginal muscles and the release from deep inside expelled his penis from my pussy. The jet of ejaculate launched out of me like an arc of fireworks. After the initial spume, the waters escaped me like a river spilling its banks. The flood left his bedsheets drenched.

Amadeo laughed, and then so did I. He replaced his erection in my cunt and proceeded to fuck me again. My orgasms came continually after that. The little ones were frequent. These were small tremors in the vaginal walls and near the lip of the pussy. The middle ones were the G-spot orgasms produced by the friction of his cock in its slippery, sliding movement inside. The large ones came as sprays. The liquid coursed around the obstruction of his penis and squeezed through the circumference at the opening. Though less explosive than the first gush, these overloaded my nerves. It was an excess of pure physical sensation, but it was also an emotional release. I let go.

Time lost meaning. Amadeo may have fucked me for another half hour or it may have only been a few more minutes. His body tensed. His arms extended and locked and kept the weight of his upper body above my chest. I saw the rugged sinews in relief. He closed his eyes tightly, and his forehead scrunched in concentration. His thighs drove the pelvis down. His pelvis kissed mine as the cock imposed itself to the root. The shuddering of the penis set the walls of my vagina to quaking. I tensed and had one more orgasm of my own. He kissed me gently in its aftermath. The hair on his groin tickled my pussy.

David contacted me on OkCupid, where both of us list casual sex among our interests. We traded a couple of messages on the site, then moved to e-mail. In the course of the conversation, I explained that I was a bedroom submissive in search of kink. I was seeking a relationship in the best case scenario, but would be happy to have a regular play partner. He preferred the latter arrangement. Like me, he had learned the ropes of bdsm on the scene, but indulged exclusive in private play these days.

On our first date — drinks and dinner — David and I hardly spoke of sex at all. As such meetings often are, it was a tad awkward to start, but we warmed to each other in time and lingered over dessert. I appreciated his intelligence and lightning wit. We took a walk along the river, and he saw me to the T and gave me a kiss on the cheek at our parting.

He called me on a Sunday night that weekend, and we had a two hour conversation about D/s. His views are compatible with mine. It’s a fun way to play but isn’t a lifestyle. It arouses me beyond measure to submit to a strong man. I’m a pain slut, who enjoys the powerlessness of bondage. The psychology of submission appeals far more than the paraphernalia. Safeword and condoms are mandatory impedimenta. He and I ended up having phone sex.

When we met up a second time, David and I negotiated boundaries over coffee and cake and proceeded to his bedroom. He undressed me and tied me up. My forearms were bound to my lower legs just above the ankles. My head dangled off the edge of the mattress. He had me arch my back off the bed and separate my knees as far as I could manage. David slapped my breasts and spanked my pubis. He beat me with a wooden spoon and with a riding crop. He stood on the mattress straddling me and dripped candle wax down from a height. With his weight on top of my body, he tit fucked me. With a vibrator inserted in my cunt, he ate my pussy to orgasm. I screamed pleasure through the panties that were stuffed in my mouth and the bondage tape over my lips.

David ripped the tape from my mouth, extracted the panties, and replaced them with his cock. As he throat fucked me, his hands mauled my tits. I was upside down, and the blood rushed to my head. I took his come shot over my face. He spanked my pussy again with the riding crop and made amends for the pain by fucking me to a state of euphoric senselessness. I came repeatedly and begged David to deliver his orgasm to me.

We have been quasi-dating ever since. When I am tied to his bed, he kisses me softly and whispers a promise to hurt me, and I whimper at the thought, but by the end of the session, inevitably, I am the one asking him for more pain because the accompanying pleasure is so much greater that way. Our friendship is not exclusively based upon bdsm. We go to old movies together. He is a professor — different subject, different university — and was helpful and encouraging during the job application process.

I met his other lover once. She’s a social worker, in her thirties. They were at a cocktail lounge. David saw me at the bar and waved me to their table to join them for a drink. She and I didn’t compare notes about our common dom, but I saw the rope burns on her wrists.

I spent a week at home during the winter break. I took the train from Boston to New York City. I met up with my sister, and we drove upstate to the parents. We see extended family during Thanksgiving while Xmas is cozy and comfortable. It’s usually only the parents and my siblings. Because my brother went to visit his girlfriend’s mother’s family in California this November, we had missed him last month. To make up for the lost time, we hung out lots.

~

The day after the day after Xmas, I met up with a former lover, who is seventeen years older than me. He taught my sister the piano, worked with my Mom, and is a family friend of long standing. I have known him almost my whole life. In May of 2010, we had a week long fling, which I initiated. At the time, he was in the final stages of a divorce. His wife had left him. We kept in touch afterwards. Last year, when I was home for the holidays, he was dating a woman, nearer to my age than his. This winter, he is single again and in the middle of a protracted dry spell.

I texted him over the kitchen table before lunch while my mother and sister were pottering around the oven. I slipped my right hand into my jeans and sent him a picture of the bulge it made in my pants. I sent a photo of my tongue flicking at the tip of a finger moistened by the secretions of cunt.

I could be persuaded to suck as well. Do you want my red lips wrapped about your shaft?

We agreed to meet at three o’clock in the afternoon.

I borrowed my Dad’s car and drove over to his place for our assignation. We sat in his living room and caught up over glasses of wine. He joined me on the small loveseat. We made out. The classical music station on the radio gave rhythm to our movements. He masturbated my pussy through the tight denim. I spread my legs wide. I touched knees and tightened my thighs around his hand. My chest thrust into a grasping palm.

Upstairs, in his bedroom, we continued. I sat on the edge of the bed, legs open, and he knelt on the floor and devoured my pussy. He stood and cupped my head at back where it joins the neck while I ingested his cock. My fingers grasped the balls and the last inch of the shaft, which I could not enclose within my mouth. The head nudged its way into my throat. Breathing carefully through the nose, I swallowed away the gag reflex and constricted the epiglottis. Lips pursed over the springy skin. My jaws were stretched enough that the sides of my face hurt. The tongue swiped across the underside of the shaft.

He took me doggy style to start. His hands pressed down at my back and buttocks while the cock drove deep into my cunt. The heavy balls slapped the backs of my thighs. I craned my head back to find his lips. The cock penetrated me slowly. I moaned as it tunneled into me. The walls felt full inside. Cream from my pussy trailed along the circumference of his cock. It deposited a ring of foam at the base of the shaft. When he warned me of his impending orgasm, by an exertion of will I freed myself of his erection, turned, and kissed his chest. I licked the sweat from his skin. The nipples were deliciously sensitive to the touch of lips and teeth.

I straddled his legs and pushed off his torso while I rode hard the hard penis. Hands clasped my leg at the knee and traversed the line of my thigh. He followed the curve of the flank up to my tits, which he squeezed. The up and down motion of my body had a metronomic precision. I slid down the stem and landed atop the root and tensed the muscles there as my knees folded out. The vagina compacted about the shaft, and I lifted while the walls were so tight inside. When my lips kissed the glans, I relaxed the muscles and lowered my body weight down again. He placed his fingers in my mouth, and I sucked them. He informed me that he was once again close, and I dismounted.

I was so close as well. He lashed his tongue around my clitoris. He growled into my gaping pussy. His nose flattened against my pubis. The dam inside me burst. My legs elongated. My feet curled. My toes clenched like a monkey’s paws. I shut my eyes to focus on the sensation, to revel in it. My ass bucked from the bed. My cunt seemed to invert. I laughed through my orgasm. When my eyes flashed open and focused downward, I noticed that my fingers gripped his so tightly that the knuckles had whitened. I laughed again at the exquisite and joyful pleasure of release. He crawled on top of my body and kissed me. I tasted my piquant juices on his lips and tongue.

He did exactly that. When his body slammed down, the momentum flowed from him to me in a wave that rippled through my trunk and radiated into my extremities. My spine did a sideways dance. My fingertips tingled. I felt the force of fucking in my eyelids. My arms wrapped his back, and I gripped his bony shoulder blades. My feet kicked off his calves. My legs interlaced with his and tangled them up in a knot. My face burrowed into his throat and collar. The shaft, which was so wondrously long and thick and hot, stretched my pussy out. I compressed muscles around his cock, making the entrance snug for him. I held on to the sides of the mattress as he took me harder.

My lover’s movements became erratic. He pulled the cock out of my pussy, peeled the condom off, and shucked his hand along the erection. The semen streamed out in bright, flashing ribbons. The come splattered me. It splashed the bottoms of my breasts and painted the cleavage between them. The viscous fluid rained onto my abdomen, collected in the hollow of my navel, and overflowed the belly button. The shaft jerked against my curling fingers as I pointed the penis. I giggled at how much come there was. Jellied puddles of his semen dotted my torso when he finished spasming. It was an alien landscape of opaque lakes. Over the sheen of perspiration, thick, viscid, sticky pools of come, pale and white, glistened on my skin like the first winter snow.

“Thank you,” I said, and rubbed his come over my body until it was a transparent gloss.

We fucked again, first in bed, then in the shower while we cleaned each other up. I drank his second orgasm, nearly as voluminous as the first. Semen overflowed my lips and dribbled down my chin and throat. He tasted of spice and salt. The third explosion, smaller than the previous two, arrived as I rimmed his asshole. My head ducked between his legs. The semen plastered wet hair to my face. A fog of steam surrounded us.

~

The family friend was not the only man I had on Tuesday.

The second is a friend from high school. Yoshio and I were in the class of 2003. I have known him since the fifth grade. Our first time was the summer after our freshman year of college. We have subsequently hooked up maybe a dozen times. I would date him in a second if he had an affinity for dominance and lived in the same city. Instead, he lives across the country, where he is working on a Ph.D. in aeronautical engineering.

We met for dinner and then went to a bar for drinks. We ended up at his house in the evening, where we played Scrabble with his little sister. I texted Dad near midnight, confessed that I was tipsy, and informed him that I would be home in the morning after crashing at Yoshio’s for the night. He texted me back: Ok. Be careful.

Ours are liberal families. My parents don’t know the details of my sex life, but they have no illusions about its existence. Yoshio’s parents retired early for the night. His sister’s bedroom is upstairs. We made up the couch in the living room with bedding but went to Yoshio’s room in the basement. When I left at nine, his parents were up and about and the sofa hadn’t been slept in.

I stripped to my panties and sat on his bed cross legged. Yoshio spread himself on the mattress. His fingers started at my shin and climbed to my knickers. The front panel of the thong underwear was a fine black mesh. He teased my cunt lips through the cloth. My moisture created bubbles in the filmy web of the fabric.

Fingers loosened his belt and the top button of his jeans. Taking the blue flap of denim in my teeth, a swift lateral movement of the head unbuttoned the fly. I nuzzled the swelling in his striped boxers. The erection left a dark shadow in the white cloth. I breathed upon the cock and pressed my lips over it until the cotton darkened with my moist breath. He smelled deliciously male. I tasted the musky skin. The heel of my palm flattened his balls. He brought the boxers down to his knees. The tumescent cock made a glorious contrast to the wiry black hair that covered his groin. I sniffed his length. Making my lips soft, I addressed his glans from below. Precome had already beaded at the slit. I kissed away the tears of the cyclops. Yoshio was content to have me suck him for a while. I sat up when his hand started to pull at my shirt.

He removed my blue sweater top and the light yellow tank top and the transparent black bra, which matched my sheer panties. I had his long sleeved shirt off and kissed his chest as I lifted the t-shirt away. We knelt and kissed on the bed. I chased his tongue from my mouth to his. Fingers traced the length of his spine, the pads pressing down where the back indented. Yoshio brought me over his lap and tugged on my ankles until the legs extended over him. His fingers feathered over the slit. Wetness seeped out. He sucked on his fingers. His head squeezing under me, he pulled the thong to the side and applied his tongue to the flow at the delta. I hunched my body over him, lowering my pussy across his open mouth, rubbing against his mandible, reaching for his cock in the process. Yoshio’s tongue threaded between my lips. I licked upward from the balls along the central vein on the bottom surface of the shaft.

He lapped my pussy for long minutes.

“Fuck me,” I said when he paused a moment to catch his breath. “I need your cock inside.” I peeled away the black thong panties in an instant.

He extracted a condom from his wallet and did what I asked. Supporting myself on forearms and knees, I arched over his torso. Left hand on my upper back, right hand on the rising curve of my rump, he steadied me while I pressed my cunt over the penis, which angled up from his pubis. On the initial foray, I tightened my pussy and balanced myself halfway. I hovered over the erection and resisted the downward compulsion of gravity and gratification. He laughed at the deliberate postponement of the fuck I had wanted and pulled me down by the waist. With the cock contained totally within, I spun my hips in a taut circle. My labia dragged against his groin.

He didn’t last long within me. His body tensed. The penis cocked and convulsed. He gripped me tight. I clutched the back of his neck and cooed to him while the condom filled with his spendings.

In the aftermath, we stretched out. Yoshio was on his back. I was on my side. My fingers wafted through the hair on his chest. We kissed. He stroked my breasts idly. As I fingered his cock, I admitted that I had been with another man a few hours before. I told him the two of them are so different, that I like them both very much. The penis stiffened against my palm.

He turned to his side and pushed me flat on the mattress. I hooked a leg across his flank. He paused to slip a condom on and used my thigh to lever his movement as the cock plunged in. He fucked me from below, thrusting with pelvis and hips while my fingers rubbed in circles over the clit. The flesh was fluid under my touch. I raised my leg to enhance the penetration. Slowly, my body turned around until I was on my belly and he was between my legs fucking me from behind. Our thighs were flush. Yoshio fucked my pussy with short jabs. We kissed.

I rose to hands and knees so that he could fuck me doggy style, but eventually, my body twisted around again. He fucked me from the side. His lips nuzzled along the line of my shoulder to my throat. When the cock slipped out of my cunt, he occupied the space between my legs and entered me from above. In the missionary position, we kissed endlessly with his cock inside me. As I had been stimulated so extensively, my pussy had a hair trigger. I came explosively. Yoshio kept his penis embedded and unmoving within. His palm cupped one of my breasts.

His eyes shut and his brow furrowed with the effort of concentration. He didn’t intend to come, but he couldn’t contain his eruption when my vagina wrung about his shaft. I gripped his forearm and kissed his throat.

I removed the condom and slurped the semen from his cock. The shaft hardened as I took him easily into my throat.

My fingers made my cunt yawn at him. “Do you mind that this little pussy hopped from another man’s bed to yours?” Experience has taught me that Yoshio liked to hear me speak about other lovers.

Yoshio gave a noncommittal grunt. He rotated so that he faced my cunt. His cock was stiffening before my eyes. His fingers reached for my pussy. He spread the wetness on the labia over my clit.

“Someone else bored into me this afternoon. He did me first. He made me cream. I used his semen for body lotion. I washed my face in it and swallowed his come.” Fingertips brushed along the furrow of his ass to his balls. They grazed across the back face of the scrotum. I plucked at the prickly hairs and batted the sac, which set the balls to a pendulous wobble. My tongue swirled around the head. I deepthroated him in a fluent and practiced motion. The points of painted nails dug into his buttocks. The cock ballooned, making my cheeks puff out.

“You’re spending the night with me, aren’t you?” The crown made a liquid plop as it evacuated my lips. Yoshio rolled another condom onto his shaft.

I am in the UK again from December 31st to January 17th. I will be crashing with my former roommate and her husband. They are renting a one bedroom flat near Hampstead Heath. I get the plush new sofa in the living room. I expect I won’t be at their place every night. After all, I have friends to see and be done by.

Amadeo has proven to be a generally poor correspondent. We Skype now and again. Frank writes a long e-mail every couple of weeks. These arrive unexpectedly. The letters are warm and funny and inevitably make me wish I had considered doing an undergraduate degree at Oxford or Cambridge. His missives and my replies are interspersed with frequent text messages. The salacious SMS exchanges happen when one of us endures an incomprehensible seminar. I like to think of Frank growing hard in his seat in public and hiding the erection in his pants with A4 paper. In the back of the auditorium, I squirm in my chair from arousal. My panties become moist. I miss these men.

For the past six weeks in Boston, I have been seeing someone. In his early thirties, David is a newly minted assistant professor. I like him very much so far. We are still in the process of discovering each other, sexually and otherwise. I have no expectations for how long the relationship will last. We aren’t exclusive. My colorful sexual life isn’t a secret to him either. He has seen the marks that other men have left on my body. He disapproves only on aesthetic grounds. He is especially proficient at applying pain without leaving bruises. David and I met through OkCupid. Like my own profile, his indicates an interest in casual sex. Naturally, in the bedroom, he gets off on his dominance and my submission. He is adept with rope. I am his bondage whore. He has made my body contort in positions I didn’t know were possible for me and taken me hard while I was tied. Sometimes he wants a brutally fast orgasm from a skull fucking. At other times he has me between his legs worshiping his phallus for most of a lazy Saturday afternoon. The Venn diagram of our kinks overlaps considerably, but there are also significant exclusions.

Because we have common friends, the ex-boyfriend and I run into each other socially. We haven’t fallen into bed. I have only been back to the old apartment once, to pick up my stuff. It’s over. I think of him less and less. But sometimes, when I am meandering through an art gallery, for example, I play the conversations we could have had in my mind. The abundance of memories I have makes me smile. He is happy. I am also, in my own way, content with the rhythms of my days and nights.

I hooked up with both of my regulars from before shortly after returning to the US. Though we do not play often, the most exciting sex I have had was a gang bang with five men organized by one of these fuck buddies. One by one, I sat on the men’s laps, naked. Wearing business suits, they kissed and touched me. The men toyed with my breasts and fingered my pussy. They affixed clothespins to my body. I brushed my ass over the erections that tented their trousers. We shared bottles of wine. Because I wanted to walk comfortably the next day, we decided that only three of them would fuck my ass. The men conducted a lottery for the privilege. I was doubled up, back and front. Once, briefly, I was tripled. My openings were made watertight. I held a penis in each hand and stroked the shafts. The men tied me to the sort of bench that is typically found in the locker room at a gym. The rope knotted my wrists beneath the plane of the thick wooden plank. It wrapped over my back to hold me in place. My tits were squashed flat. Knees on the floor, my legs were held apart by a spreader bar. My ass extended over the edge. They took my anus and pussy. My chest rode hard against the oak. Frequently, I fellated a man who straddled the bench and fed me his cock while another fucked me. The sex was continuous. It went on for two and a half hours. My friend had me first and last.

A few other encounters may be worth mentioning. I had bareback sex on a single occasion. At a bar, I picked up an eighteen year old, who looked like he was in his early twenties. I didn’t know he was a virgin until he confessed his virtue in my bedroom after we were already naked. Probably, I should have guessed his inexperience from the way he kissed. He departed my apartment having come in a woman. To start, I gave him a blowjob to take the edge off. He erupted almost at once, filling my mouth with the consummation of all of his adolescent daydreams and night tremors. Despite obvious inexpertness, I liked that I was his first taste of cunt. When we fucked, I squealed aloud in ecstasy before he expelled his seed. While I thought of introducing him to my toy box, I ultimately decided against it. I have long fantasized about training up the ideal dom starting from a tabula rasa. He isn’t the one. I haven’t seen him again.

At the other end of the age spectrum, I indulged my Electra complex over Thanksgiving. On Black Friday, I posted an ad on Craigslist and hooked up with a man in his mid-fifties. He is over twice my age and, in fact, said he had a son a year older than me. We met for coffee and then proceeded to a no tell motel at the outskirts of town. The clerk gave us a knowing look when he handed over the key. The man palmed my ass possessively. I never learned his name. I insisted that Daddy place his great, big cock in his little girl’s tight, wet cunt. Fucking and sustained cunnilingus drowned the bedsheets in my flood. I asked Daddy to sperm on me to close because I wanted to wear his semen. He straddled my chest and, punctuated by small licks over the glans, masturbated himself. He blasted over my tits to make them grow.

Lastly, I went to a conference in Pennsylvania at the beginning of October. I took a rental car and drove from Massachusetts. Around two thirty in the morning, I needed a pit stop, coffee, and a bite to eat. I stopped at a diner along the highway. A man seated alone invited me to join him at a small table. Rather than eating by myself, I accepted. He was a trucker and got to talking about life on the road. Intrigued, I asked for a tour of the truck. The living quarters of the eighteen wheeler were claustrophobic. A bunk bed occupied much of the space. Neatly stacked plastic storage containers lined the top bunk. The bed below was immaculately made. He didn’t wear a wedding band, I noticed. I took a chance and kissed him. His tongue dipped into my open mouth. He leaned his weight toward me; my back bowed backward. My fingers worked his belt buckle apart. I shed my jacket and divested myself of clothes. The cab was chilly. He turned the heat up for me. I sat on the edge of the mattress and sucked his penis to hardness. When I was satisfied with how it shined, I tossed the condom I unearthed from my purse at him. He nursed at my teats and lowered his weight atop my body. My arms wrapped his broad shoulders. I spread my legs in the air. The bedsprings gave a metallic creak. The floor seemed to shift slightly, but I may have imagined this. I sprawled in his arms after sex. We had breakfast in the same diner in the morning. I bought a fresh box of condoms from the convenience store at the gas station nearby, and we had a quickie for the road.

These episodes are exceptional. The majority of the sex during the past three months has been pedestrian. Craigslist is less effective than I remember. It has gotten me laid, yes, but the men I have met in Boston through the agency of the casual encounters board have exhibited little promise. Random hookups still happen, but the frequency has diminished since London. Ideally, I want more than another one night stand. The unrepeated fucks are temporary expedients and stopgap measures. Save for David, sex constitutes only a physical release. It lacks an intellectual or emotional connection. The dildo is sometimes more satisfying than a man. I haven’t been on the hunt as regularly as before. This is just as well. Research and grading papers have kept me busy this semester. Marking exams is a bitch. I expect to defend my thesis in May. The dissertation needs much work this spring.

I still play flute when I can with a chamber group. We don’t perform. We rehearse challenging music for fun. Nearly every morning, I spend an hour at the gym. On Friday nights, I go dancing — usually at gay clubs. Liz and Sophie, two close friends, like making out with girls. We have done a fair amount of kissing and fondling bodies through club wear. It hasn’t ended with tongue circling clit and my mouth imbibing cunt or thighs clamping a head in a viselike grip with fingers pulling the roots of hair and making indentations in the scalp as my pussy fountains against the touch of lips. We haven’t tribbed. Perhaps one day we shall.

I will most likely be in a new city next fall. Where? I don’t know. The job applications are out. I enjoy what I can of Boston while I am living here. I keep busy.

I wrote the letters vertically in green marker down the underside of his shaft. Snapping up the swinging sac with my lips, I sucked each of his testicles. The tonguetip poked at them. My lips made a seal and tugged. I compacted the grip of my fingers on the scrotum, brought the balls together, swiped my tongue across, and sketched a smiley face underneath. Saliva smeared the ink.

I handed the pen to Frank. “You do me,” I said.

A scattering of small brown birthmarks populate my right shoulder. Frank played connect the dots with the magic marker. He kissed the blemishes and layered star shaped ornaments over the skin. He sketched a ladder between the hollows of my ribs. The stubby felt tip of the pen set me to giggling. Ink smudged. He drew a long line from my nipple, down the bottom of the breast, down the torso and the abdomen, down still farther over the pubis, finally terminating at the clit. He repeated on the opposite side, straighter on his second effort. Lips and tongue followed the lines to their convergence. He pinched the hood down and licked.

Juices dripped from my pussy in viscous, silver strands. His tongue collected my wetness. Palm facing up, he snuck two fingers into me, and spun his wrist while he nursed at each of my nipples. Frank alternated between them so that the one wouldn’t feel left out by the other.

When it was my turn to play, I flicked my thumb across Frank’s spongy glans. The mouth made faces at me as the heel brushed over it. Precome beaded in the eye. I spread it over the head. I stroked his shaft with my left hand and allowed the right to feather along the furrow of his ass. The minute hairs tickled the pads of my fingers. I verbalized a promise to rim his asshole later. I loved how he groaned when I said this.

He tilted his face and looked up at me. I covered his mouth with mine. A purple dildo clattered to the floor.

I compressed my tits together, and Frank wedged his cock between them. The shaft slid through the cleavage. Penis flat against the breastbone, the glans looked like a locomotive powering through a tunnel. Craning my head from the pillow, I extended my tongue to lick the choo-choo at the apex of its ascent.

I had him sit on top of me and petaled the labia open. The shaft pressed against the inner lips of cunt. It dragged, forward and backward, along the slick folds and became damp in the seepage from my pussy. The contact the stem made against the clitoris felt glorious. The nerves below ached in their want. I painted his balls with cunt wet fingers.

We sat on the bed. His thumb rubbed lightly across my slit.

“When were you last tested?” I nuzzled against his shoulder.

His lips pursed together as he considered. “February,” Frank said.

With superior strength, he flipped me horizontal and pinned my arms to the bed. I brought my legs around his and spun them over his calves. He pecked my lips. I clamped down on Frank’s tongue and held it between my teeth. It skated over the points as he extracted it from me. After a moment, his tongue darted back into my open mouth, as I knew it would. My hands lowered on either side of his spine. I gripped his buttocks and shook the cheeks. My tongue briefly slipped into his mouth. Frank dropped a series of soft little kisses over my upper lip. I licked the line of his smile, which persuaded his tongue back out to dance.

I broke the kiss and released a heartfelt sigh. “April,” I said, reaching behind me. My hand stumbled blindly over the nightstand for a condom.

I am back in the United States. I have two more stories to tell about London. I had my final Wednesday date with Amadeo. Frank came to visit on Friday and saw me off to Heathrow on Saturday. Both these goodbyes were tinged with sadness. I am friendly with Marshall, the man I have seen several times during the last weeks. Though we have out of this world sex, we aren’t especially tight. I am not broken up about leaving him. With Amadeo and Frank, the situation is different. I miss them terribly.

On the seventh day of the month of September in the year two thousand and eleven, Amadeo brought me to subspace one last time.

He took me in every orifice. Using my ears as handles, he throat fucked me. The saliva spilled from my mouth, falling in thick ropes that left a puddle on the floor. The tug of wrists wrenching both of my arms from their sockets, he impaled my anus onto his cock and battered my ass from behind. He pinned my wrists high above my head with one of his enormous paws, and while his cock pounded my cunt, I sucked and bit on the fingers in my mouth. After I came, he licked my puffy and swollen pussy with an abundance of gentleness. I brought his hands to my breasts while he ate me out. He deposited kisses over the water smooth pubis and swirled his tongue round and round the orgasm engorged clit. The pussy licking was the prelude to a fisting. It took him twenty minutes to squeeze inside. I couldn’t see it happen — not fully — flat as I was on my back, breathing hard, and clenching the sheets. I concentrated on his speech, and he talked me through the process of fitting his hand into my cunt until the muscles at the entrance stretched like a rubber band about his wrist. I was a mitten. I was a glove. My hair was swimming in sweat. I resided in a hazy and contented place with his fist inside.

Amadeo’s aftercare was exquisite. He held me protectively.

He took me over his lap and spanked me. The barehand blows landed over my buttocks in fortissimo thunderclaps that set my ass to rippling. The heat seared into the flesh. The skin turned an angry red. The muscles ached. Wriggling his hand between my thighs, Amadeo discovered a sopping cunt. In the intervals, he fingered my pussy lips and clitoris. He left no bruises but nevertheless walloped me until I was beyond screaming. Tears bespoke pain. But I was also aware that this could be the end. I will miss our nights together. Orgasm came to me in an adrenaline and endorphin fueled rush.

I brought a blubbering face to his penis and sucked him softly, savoring his scents and flavors, the heft of his cock between my lips, and the taste of precome on my tongue. When he was perfectly rigid and yearning, I placed a condom over the erection. Amadeo took me slowly from above. The cock imposed itself to the balls, then retreated completely. My hands tightened on his arms and shoulders, and I kissed him. He kept removing the penis from my cunt and slapping the shaft over my pubis. He painted the moisture from inside over the skin.

I went to sleep with the meter long chain that attached to my collar looped around the headboard of the bed. Amadeo’s recumbent body radiated its heat next to me. He had begun on his side, spooning me, with an arm folded over my breasts. We were both horizontal now, stretched out and supine. He took in deep breaths of air in his sleep. I fingered the cold metal links of the chain and shut my eyes. My pussy was sore from fucking.

In the shower in the morning, I took pleasure in washing his body. I rinsed soap from his underarms and followed with kisses. I used foam to pattern white arcs over his backside. I tasted the skin that I had cleaned. I sponged his cock and sucked him under the water stream. After the orgasm, which produced only the smallest spoonful of ejaculate, I extended Amadeo’s left leg and kissed my way down to his ankle. Taking his foot in hand, I licked along the arch. Fingernails scratched the sole and tickled. I sucked his big toe just as I had minutes before sucked his glans. My tongue flickered into the crevice between the big toe and the longer one next to it. I lapped at the top of the foot and along its sides. My lips left kisses over the pads of his toes. I pressed the sole against my cheek, and I nosed at the heel.

Once we had reversed positions, Amadeo held the showerhead and pointed it over my body. I closed my eyes and stood on my toes, wrapped my arms around his neck, and enjoyed the unhurried kisses while he soaped my tits and back. Bringing my arms in the air, he washed my armpits and flank. He rubbed in circles over my belly, skirted the pussy, and continued on to my legs. I propped a foot on his knee as soapy hands slid along the leg. He scrubbed between the toes. After he had rinsed my cunt lips, he pressed his face down hard and licked me. Turning me against the wall, he gnawed the flesh of my buttocks and the hollow of the neck where it meets the shoulder. He shampooed my hair with exceptional care. I went to my knees again and let the back of my head brush against his penis.

On the drive to the university, whenever he could spare it from the stick shift, he placed his hand on the inner part of my thigh. Rising to tiptoes, I wrapped his shoulder and back and hugged him next to the car when we arrived. We kissed, once, twice, and held each other. I waited for him to dissolve the hug. I clasped his right hand in my left and his left in my right. We drifted apart.

“Farewell, lover,” I whispered. Then louder: “See you around.” The smile reached his eyes.

I don’t know what I can say about Frank. The fucking was likely the purest sex I have had in London. It wasn’t the all night orgy some of our previous encounters were. We did it once in the evening and again in the morning. We did it in my flat, on my bed, over sheets I abandoned, with my packed luggage by the side of the door. It was funny. It was comfortable. We had intensely personal conversations and companionable silences. It wasn’t the least bit romantic. The sex affirmed a friendship, one that, I hope, will endure through the distance and the decades.

It will be ages — well, months — before my next rendezvous with either of these men. It will happen though. And possibly we will renew our acquaintance in bed. I would like that very much.